


One Hundred Thousand Welcomes

by Rina (rinadoll)



Category: Original Work
Genre: 19th Century, Celebrations, F/F, Falling In Love, Imbolc, Orphan Character, St Brigid's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-13 08:07:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29275179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rinadoll/pseuds/Rina
Summary: They thought they’d exiled her appropriately. They never dreamed someone like Kate would be waiting on the other side.
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Female Character
Comments: 4
Kudos: 6
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 6





	One Hundred Thousand Welcomes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Galadriel1010](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Galadriel1010/gifts).



It was only to have lasted one month.

Sara surveyed her cozy surroundings happily as breakfast cooked next to her. Three months later, she couldn’t imagine living anywhere else, with anyone else. She hadn’t realized what a home felt like before. And now she was safe here, for the foreseeable future. Blessings on Mrs. Alagna!

Yesterday, Sara’s walk home had been miserable and she hadn’t been able to muster up a smile for Kate or Pip, barking madly to welcome her back from the schoolhouse.

“What’s happened now, lass?” Kate had asked, her faint Irish accent becoming more musical in her concern.

“Mrs. A was by to check on supplies, as it’s her family’s turn for firewood,” Sara said, eyes downcast. “She mentioned that it was well past time for me to be moving on to the next board, and wondered where it would be.”

“Ah, yes,” Kate said slowly. “I suppose it would be. Well, I...do you want to be moving on?”

“Oh, no,” Sara said, looking up at last. “I love it here, with you and Pip.”

“Then I’ll settle that matter,” Kate said firmly, squeezing Sara’s hand. “Families will be relieved to be done with boarding, and I most certainly welcome your company.”

Sara could have cried in relief, but she merely smiled. “And I yours.” She had changed into her work clothes and set about doing the ironing before supper, a new lightness shining in her heart. 

She’d fallen asleep with a smile and this morning, realized she could wake looking forward to her days without fear now. There were the children she taught, Pippy and her steadfast adoration, the home she’d grown to love.

Kate. 

She’d been crushed when her parents forced her to leave Philadelphia in disgrace, having been found acting immorally: in an embrace with their neighbor’s visiting sister. They’d paid her way to Wisconsin with a position wanted advertisement in hand, and given her a small sum of money in return for her promise to not return. 

They thought they’d exiled her appropriately. They never dreamed someone like Kate would be waiting on the other side. Someone who wanted her.

In her home, at least. That was plenty good for Sara. Kate made her happier just being in her life, even as a housemate or friend. Or...

Speaking of Kate, she now stepped into their house, quickly closing the door behind her to keep the warmth in. She traded her heavy coat and hood for a warm shawl and greeted Sara with a beaming smile.

Her face was rosy from the January cold, and Sara marveled at how she stayed freckled year round. It suited her bright blue eyes and rich brown hair; Sara thought she would never wear a hat again if only she could look as lovely with freckles. 

Sara tried to ignore her blush and focused on setting the table with full breakfast plates. Their meal was companionable, with Kate carrying the conversation as usual. Sara longed to hold her own in conversation, trade the witty repartees she had grown up reading about, but Sara’s speaking comfort with children simply would not transfer to interactions with adults. That Kate didn’t mind her fewer and quiet contributions was one more reason why their cabin felt like home.

Home! Sara exulted in the thought as they went their ways for the day, her happiness keeping her from noticing the winds and chilled air as she walked to the schoolhouse. And then, wonder of wonder, she was walking to her home when the school day was finished. 

—

Sara stopped by Kate and Pippy in the barn to say hello, and Kate stopped watering the stock to watch her walk towards the cabin. Sara had slowly grown more open and comfortable over the last few months, but today was a new story entirely. Kate wasn’t sure she’d seen Sara’s dimples, one on each side of her rosy lips, so many times in twelve weeks as in the last twelve hours. 

Sara’s smile warmed her brown eyes and gave her entire being a new vibrancy. She had enjoyed Sara’s friendship before, but now she found herself drawn so much more to the other woman. 

Life had been a little lonely since her Da’s passing a year earlier, but Sara had changed that. The cabin was cozy and companionable again, and she enjoyed hearing about the antics of the students each day, and having someone to read and talk with. Not just anyone, but a friend. Kate was grateful Sara didn’t want to leave, for it might have left her brokenhearted. 

Oh. And wasn’t that a surprising thought.

She returned to the afternoon and evening chores with Sara on her mind. Supper was waiting when she finished, with salt pork, fried potatoes, bread, butter, and jam, and cinnamon rolls crowding around the kerosene lamp and their place settings. 

They tucked in, sharing tidbits from their day. “Bessy and Abby vowed today that they were going to grow up and live together forever,” Sara said, smiling. “The big boys laughed, but let them dream! It’s nice to have plans to look forward to.”

“Did you have a special friend like that?” Kate asked. It wasn’t quite what she wanted to ask, but was close enough.

“No, the girls at school and I were friendly, but not especially,” Sara said. “I preferred my books, largely. Our neighbor had a much bigger library than ours, and I was allowed to borrow from it.” She looked down. “His sister might have become a special friend, but we knew each other only briefly.” 

“I had a friend in Ohio, Louisa,” Kate said, after a pause. “We were inseparable. I stayed with her after Mam died and Da took off building railroads here in Wisconsin. When they finished the spur near here, he settled and wrote for me. She’s not one much for writing, but I heard from her after her wedding last year.”

When she’d cried that week, she wasn’t certain if it was for losing Da or Lou.

She cleared her throat. “Like your school friends, I’m friendly enough with the ladies of Birch Corner, but no special friends. Until now?”

Sara’s head jerked up and she met Kate’s eyes, a blush blooming. “Really? Oh! I mean, I,” she fumbled and looked down again.

Kate laughed, but fondly. “Yes, Sara, I mean you,” she said, patting Sara’s arm. 

Sara was still bright red, but she smiled widely at Kate and Kate’s heart skipped a beat. “I’m glad,” Sara said, fingers playing with her napkin. “I...yes. You’re mine, as well.”

Kate beamed at her, and the conversation turned to Kate’s trip to town to announce Sara now lived at the cabin permanently. As Kate had thought, it was a solution that would benefit everyone. 

After dinner, they generally took turns mending or knitting and reading aloud. While Sara pulled out her needles by the fire, Kate dug into her Mam’s trunk in the attic. 

“Are you familiar with St. Brigid’s Day?” she asked, climbing down the ladder. 

“I don’t believe so,” Sara said. 

“It was Mam’s feast day,” Kate said. “She was Mary Bridget, named in honor of her. It was a big celebration day in her village, back in Ireland.” She showed Sara a doll and cross made entirely of dry and faded reeds. “These were hers.”

Sara took them, gently tracing the doll’s rough hair and twisted face, braided body and raggedy skirt. It wore a pink calico apron that was unevenly hemmed. “What did she do with these?”

“The doll was the guest of honor at dinner, and the cross was hung up for protection,” Kate said, smiling at the thought of the old doll visiting for dinner in her childhood. Mam had even let Kate dress her up in new outfits each year.

“Why isn’t it hung up now?” Sara asked.

“I never asked,” she said. “We made a new one every year, and this was the last she made. I supposed Da didn’t want the memory. We didn’t celebrate after her passing.”

“Well, shall we put this one up or make a new one?” Sara asked. “When is St. Brigid’s Day?”

“February 1, but we begin celebrating the night before.” Kate’s fingers itched to hold Mam’s things again. “It’s the celebration of spring being near.”

Sara laughed as she handed them back to Kate. “Spring must come much earlier in Ireland,” she said. “We certainly don’t look like we’ll have spring next week or anytime soon.”

“It’s warmer there than Wisconsin,” Kate agreed. “I think perhaps we could use hay to make another,” she mused, tracing the bends and folds.

“Then hang this one up until you’ve made the new one,” Sara encouraged her. “Will we celebrate this year?”

“I’d like to, very much,” Kate said, hunting down a nail for the door. 

“What do we need?”

Instead of reading, Kate spent the evening telling her about the holiday traditions, foods, her own memories of celebrating as well as her mother’s old stories of celebrating in Ireland. They stayed awake long past their usual turn-in time, until the dying fire pushed them off to bed.

They spent the next week planning for Friday evening’s feast and celebration. It was to be the two of them, with as many of Kate’s childhood feast day favorites they could put together. Kate found the hay that would be used for the new cross and a basket for their guest doll of honor. Sara practiced the recipes, which were as unfamiliar to her as their very names, and they both gave the cabin a good scrub and clean to welcome spring.

—

When Friday arrived, Sara had a small flutter in her stomach. It felt like such an honor to be part of Kate’s beloved holiday, and she wanted it to go well.

The school day lasted interminably, and Sara released them early. One day wouldn’t hurt them. 

She hurried home, enjoying the waning sunlight. Perhaps spring wasn’t as far off as it felt.

Kate was nearing the end of her chores when Sara arrived, so Sara went inside the cabin and tied an apron around herself. Kate had begun some of the recipes that needed to simmer or rest, and Sara dove into what remained. 

They changed into their best dresses as sunset neared and the food finished cooking. Sara’s was a plain dove grey and she wove matching ribbons through the braids that wound around her head. Kate’s was a practical dark blue, but with lace touches at the neck. She pinned on her mother’s brooch and wrapped her mother’s shawl around her shoulders. 

“You look beautiful,” Sara said, and she was surprised to see Kate blush. 

“There’s no need for Mam’s things to sit unused,” Kate said. “She’d hate the waste, if nothing else.”

Kate gathered the hay bundles as the sky darkened. She’d explained that she would walk around the house three times as the saint, then knock three times to be welcomed in, but Sara wasn’t allowed to answer until the third time she did this.

Sara listened for the knocks as she piled their plates high with supper and practiced her line.

When the third set came, she was ready, flinging the door open as the third knock landed. “C’ead Mile Failte!” she said, just as Kate had taught her. “A thousand welcomes to our home, St. Brigid.”

Kate stepped in, and held the doll to her heart as she took in the table. “Sara, it’s perfect.”

Sara beamed at her. Kate settled the doll on a stool by her plate, a saucer with a small scoop of everything. 

Kate had given her the recipes for boxty pancakes made with potatoes, oatcakes with jelly and butter, colcannon of cabbage with boiled bacon, white pudding, boiled sweet bread Goody, apple cake, and a glorious spiced beef. Some had proven more challenging, and they’d had several days of failed white puddings with poor seasonings. 

All the practice had paid off, though, and Kate’s joy with a meal that stepped out of her favorite memories was worth every bit of struggle. 

Kate chattered on with stories about her parents, and holidays and birthdays, as they ate their way through the feast.

“But that’s me talking your ear off,” Kate said, as they cleared the table. “How did your family celebrate?” 

“Oh, we didn’t really,” Sara said, scraping plates. “If it wouldn’t be seen by others, they didn’t have much interest in it.” She caught Kate’s confused face. “My father didn’t earn enough money to be entirely in the society they wished to join, so they worked to catch their attention whenever possible.” 

She’d never said a word against her family before, and she felt more than a little shaky at her daring. She focused her attention on the dishes and remaining food.

After a moment, she felt Kate’s hand on her shoulder. “Well, they are clearly not Irish, then,” she said, sounding extra jolly. “I’ll teach you how to properly celebrate everything.”

“Yes, please,” Sara said, her shoulders relaxing. 

When everything was cleaned, Kate lit candles around the room and taught Sara how to weave the hay into a bed for the doll. 

“If we celebrated so much tonight, what’s left for tomorrow?” Sara asked.

“Well, more eating, of course,” Kate said. “We’ll go for a nice long ride to appreciate the nature and light our lady is giving us, bring in our clothing that she’ll have blessed overnight, and then there will be dancing. It’s more fun with a whole big party, of course, but we’ll do fine.”

“I’ve never gone dancing,” Sara said. Her lessons had never gone well, and she’d never accompanied her parents to any gatherings with dances.

“Then Sal, my gal, we shall practice.” Kate stood and pulled her up as well. She set a rhythm by humming upbeat tunes as she guided Sara through some steps, moving her hips and shoulders into the right positions.

Soon the hums had become folk songs sung in quick and lilting Irish, as Sara let herself be pushed and pulled and twirled faster and faster, laughing as she went. 

Kate grabbed her waist, held their clasped hands up, and galloped them around the candlelit room, and Sara thought she’d never been so happy. 

They slowed as the song came to a close, but Kate still held her close. Sara gazed at her flushed cheeks, sparkling eyes, and hair loosened from their whirlwind. Could she? Did she dare? Her heart beat wildly.

“Can special friends share a kiss?” she asked, not feeling quite as bold as she sounded.

Kate’s eyes darkened as she nodded, and Sara felt a rush of relief, grateful for Kate's arms around her.

“They can, and court, and love, as well,” Kate answered. 

She tipped her head forward and Sara met her in a gentle kiss. 

Home forever.


End file.
